The Hand and The Lady (First Meeting)
by hlmsluvr
Summary: The story of what transpired between Lord Tywin Lannister and The Lady (OC) after the completion of the secret tunnel to a chamber linked to Chataya's brothel. Story takes places during Aerys' reign while Tywin was serving as his Hand but after Joanna's death.
1. Chapter 1

First Meeting

Lord Tywin Lannister was looking at the detailed plans of the tunnel to the brothel. They had been completed yesterday.

"The builders?" he murmured to Lord Baelish who stood unobtrusively at his side.

"Dispatched as you requested, my lord," replied Lord Baelish.

Lord Tywin nodded once and stood up, walking absently over to a latticed window in the Tower of the Hand.

"A woman will be there tonight and every night this week, should you wish it, my lord. I've engaged the best in the city, certainly the most expensive and discreet," added Lord Baelish quietly, rolling up the plans and making a mental note about which brick to hide them behind in his office.

"How do you know she's the most discreet?" muttered Lord Tywin, mildly annoyed. Women and discretion seldom when hand in hand.

"I pride myself on my ability to find out information, my lord, and in the last five years that I've known of her, I've yet to find someone who knows her real name or where she hails from," explained Lord Baelish.

That appeared to satisfy the lion and he remained silent.

"I'll take my leave, if you've no other instructions, my lord," prompted Baelish, edging to the door.

"I don't think I need to remind you of the consequences if you should speak of this to anyone," said the lion in a low voice.

"I'm sure I wouldn't live long enough to regret betraying your trust, my Lord Hand," replied Baelish carefully.

"On the contrary," countered Lord Tywin Lannister, turning his sharp gaze on his councilman, "I'll make sure that you do."

Lord Baelish digested the threat, bowed respectfully and removed himself as quickly as he dared.

* * *

Lord Tywin stood outside the door to the chamber that had been built upon his request, at the end of the tunnel which he'd commissioned, and hesitated. He hated that he had this weakness but Joanna had been gone too long and Aerys was making his job more difficult than ever. He wanted to forget, even if it was only for half an hour.

Lord Tywin clenched his jaw and opened the door.

The room was large and tastefully furnished with deep woods and sumptuous fabrics. A fire crackled fiercely in a large stone hearth flanked by two large arm chairs. A large fur was spread before the fire and a wide, ornate bed sat opposite it. The pleasant aroma of incense teased the air.

The woman reclining comfortably in one of the chairs before the fire, a glass of wine halfway to her lips, paused when he entered, and then rose respectfully, setting the wine aside. The Lady stood with a perfectly straight back, shoulders squared, and yet still managed to look at ease. She wore a robe of deep purple with light gold detailing pulled closed at her narrow waist and beneath it, a gown of golden mesh. She wore no jewelry. Her thick brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders, framing her oval face and bringing out a purply blue in her wide eyes. The woman studied him for a moment, while he did the same to her and then she broke into a warm smile.

"Good evening, My Lord Hand," said the woman softly, watching him with a gaze that was almost too intelligent for his liking.

When he did not speak, she moved toward him.

"What is your name?" asked Lord Tywin pointedly, stopping her in her tracks.

"I am Lady, my lord but you may call me anything you wish provided I do not find it offensive," she replied, her welcoming smile never wavering.

Lord Tywin almost snorted at her presumption.

"If I called you a whore, would you find that offensive?" asked The Hand of the King dryly.

"If I called you a politician, would you find that offensive?" she countered easily.

Lord Tywin frowned. He wasn't used to sharp tongued women.

Lord Tywin glared at her but she did not flinch.

"The night is a little warm for cloaks, my lord. May I?" asked the Lady, trying to change the subject, as she finished her journey to him.

Very slowly, he untied his cloak and handed it to her.

"Wine?" she offered as she took it from him.

He nodded once, still studying her.

She surprised him by dipping into a curtsey before turning away from him. She draped his cloak over the back of one of the chairs by the fire and continued on to the wine decanter on a side table.

"Please, make yourself comfortable, my lord," she said gently, gesturing to the chairs by the fire.

Lord Tywin moved to stand before the fire but he did not sit down. This wasn't going as he had expected. Although, to be fair, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting.

She returned swiftly and handed him a cup of wine. He took a drink, approving the expensive vintage.

"What did Lord Baelish tell you?" asked Lord Tywin, more out of curiosity than a desire to make conversation.

"He persuaded me that it would be in my best interest to take you on as a client, my lord," she replied, taking a sip from her own glass, standing opposite him. The firelight glinted in her eyes.

"You needed persuading?" he asked, letting his eyes travel down her body for the first time.

She paused for a moment and then said quietly, "You place me in a very difficult position, my lord, and we haven't even begun yet."

He ignored the lewd comment and waited for an explanation.

"As a rule, I don't accept dangerous clients though in your case, I was uncertain whether the greatest danger lay in accepting you or refusing you," the Lady informed him, as she continued to look calculatingly at him.

"You consider me dangerous?" asked the Hand of the King, running an appraising eye over her again.

"You are Lord Tywin Lannister, and if that were not enough, you are also the Hand of the King. My Lord I _know_ you to be dangerous," she answered, sipping some more wine.

He eyed the wetness on her lips and said nothing. He wasn't paying her for her conversation and yet, he was letting her talk.

"Given who you are, my lord, is there anything you forbid me from doing? I do not wish to displease you," she murmured, interrupting his thoughts.

There was another long pause before Lord Tywin heard himself say "You will not kiss me."

"On the mouth or anywhere?" asked the Lady, without being coy.

The lord's look darkened.

"On the mouth."

"As you wish," she replied, accepting his request without judgment. "While we are on the subject, you in turn, will not draw blood or leave bruises. There are plenty of other girls for that."

She paused a moment to see his reaction to her request.

"I'm not interested in hurting you," replied Lord Tywin.

"May that desire never change," she added, toasting him with her own glass of wine and taking another sip.

"Shall we do something you are interested in?" she asked, setting her wine aside.

Lord Tywin raised a golden eyebrow at her and set down his own glass.

She held out a thin purple cord attached to the side of her robe.

"Would you care to do with your hands what you've been doing with your eyes?" she suggested, looking up at him through her long lashes.

The bulge in his breeches became uncomfortable as he tugged at the cord she handed him and watched the purple robe whisper to the floor. The outline of her full breasts against the thin, yielding golden fabric made his blood race. Her skin was pale and flawless as far as he could see, appreciating the flare of her hips and shapely legs. He reached out to touch her but she spun around unexpectedly. She glanced over her shoulder with parted lips and started sliding the golden straps from her shoulders. Lord Tywin grabbed the fabric from her fingers and yanked it down to her hips, letting it drop to the floor. She caught her breath at her sudden exposure in a way that made him ache.

He wrapped his hands around her hips, his breathing coming quicker. As his fingers found a jagged scar on her hip, she spun around in his hands and pressed her body against him before he could say anything.

"You are wearing far too much clothing," she breathed, her cheeks flushed as he gripped her rounded bottom.

In the blink of an eye, she had his tunic open and was working on his belt. He slid his hands and cupped her breasts, enjoying her gasp and the sudden fluttering of her eyes. She leaned into him again with a hooded gaze, her hands rubbing against his length through his laces.

She tugged on the strings of his and led him in the direction of the bed, slightly out of reach of his hands. Lord Tywin opened his belt as he walked and dropped his tunic to the ground.

When they reached the bed, she sat down and leaned in to completely undo his laces but he stopped her with a growl. The lion had had enough. He reached out and grabbed one of her arms, pulling her toward him, off the bed. Before she could get her bearings, he spun her around and bent her down over the bed, her hair flying about her face as put a hand on her back and pushed her into the covers. Lord Tywin tore open his laces as she spread her legs, arching her back and presenting herself to be taken. She cried out into the bedding as he slammed himself into her with a grunt, his fingers digging into her hips. For the first time, in a long time, the Hand's mind went blissfully blank as he focused on the hot grip of her body as he thrust into her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he appreciated that she wasn't faking screams of pleasure for his benefit. Her panting gasps and occasional cries were all the encouragement he needed, if he needed any.

To his chagrin, he didn't last as long as he wanted, releasing inside of her with a loud groan as he pushed into her one final time. He bent over her, bracing his arms on either side of her as he caught his breath. There was a delicate flush beneath her skin and her mouth was open as she watched him hazily over her shoulder. She made a soft sound, almost of disappointment, as he slid out of her.

Mechanically, he bent down and pulled up his breeches, tucking his shirt in. Putting everything back in place.

"There's water and soap behind the screen if you wish, my lord," she whispered softly, turning around on the bed and sitting up beside him.

"No," was all he said.

Lord Tywin moved to get his tunic, allowing her a discreet moment to wipe his seed from the inside of her thighs. She walked past him and gathered up his cloak.

"You won't stay?" the lady asked softly, holding his cloak against her breasts.

The Hand finished closing the fastenings on his tunic and moved to stand before her. She seemed hurt that he was leaving so soon and a part of him wanted to stay, wanted to believe that she liked his company.

But that was what he was paying her for: to pretend to want him. Not for the first time, he thrust away his loneliness, which ironically, had become nearly a constant companion since his wife's death.

Lord Tywin took his cloak back more roughly than he intended and swept it around his shoulders.

"Lord Baelish has arranged your payment?" he asked coldly.

If the Lady was taken aback, she hid it.

"Yes," she replied.

Lord Tywin's hand was on the door when he heard her ask, "Will I see you again, my lord?"

He looked back at her, standing there naked, the firelight playing over her skin. Her hands were folded demurely over her stomach even though she was completely exposed. She was beautiful but she didn't belong to him, at least, not beyond the time he had paid for.

Tywin Lannister closed the door behind him without replying to her question and strode resolutely back down the tunnel to the Red Keep to his duty, his responsibilities and away from distractions.


	2. The Hand and the Lady Part 2

The Hand and The Lady Part 2

Lord Tywin put the quill down and pinched the bridge of his nose. His candles were burning low and he entertained the idea of lighting new ones. Then, he glanced at the side door hidden behind a wardrobe in his chamber that led to the tunnel. His eyes flicked back and forth between the unfinished letter on his desk and the door several times before he made a decision. The lion stood up and extinguished the candles before he left.

He didn't pause outside the door this time; he didn't even knock. He why should he? When the room and everything in it belonged to him. Lord Tywin pushed the door open and walked inside. The Lady, in a thin, red fabric that left very little to the imagination, was lounging on the fur rug before the fire, wine glass in hand, staring unseeingly into the flames. She jumped when he entered, her large eyes going wide with surprise.

"My lord!" she said, hastily getting to her bare feet.

He waited until she was standing and then said drily, "You seem surprised."

The Lady hesitated for a second and then smiled with her eyes cast down, demurely, which startled the Hand.

"I am surprised, my lord. When you left me, you seemed displeased. I had not thought to live out the night let alone see you again in this chamber," she replied quietly, her eyes on him again.

At that, Tywin Lannister dropped his own gaze for a moment, considering.

"I was not displeased with you," he informed her, remembering his annoyance with himself, and coming to stand before her. "I seem to recall telling you that I had no interest in hurting you."

"Hurting is different than killing," she remarked with a small smile that disappeared as the frown on Lord Tywin's face darkened.

"Wine, my lord, or shall we attend to more pressing matters?" she asked, closing the remaining gap and leaning into his body, her hand lightly sliding along the edge of his length.

She heard him inhale sharply through his nose as his icy gaze took in her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. The Lady was still touching him through his breeches.

He reached between them suddenly and clamped a hand around her wrist, not painfully but firmly.

"Get on your knees," he growled, letting go of her.

The woman smiled wickedly at the lion, gripped his dangling belt strap and pulled him with her to the other side of the fire where a full mirror rested in the corner. Faster than his own steward, her fingers flew up his black tunic opening it and pushing it off his shoulders. Her hands went to his laces as he gripped the crimson fabric at her shoulders. She heard him breathe in and hold it. She met his hooded gaze with her own smoldering one as he tore the garment in half down to her waist. She gasped and her eyelids fluttered as she shrugged out of the remains of the slip and tried not to wince as he pinched her peaked nipples. He nearly groaned aloud when he looked at their reflection in the mirror as she went to her knees. She still had a white strip of cloth around her waist which held up a small curtain of fabric half the size of one of his dinner napkins which discreetly shielded her sex and crack between her rounded cheeks. Bending down slightly, he still kept hold of her nipples, tugging them up and unbeknownst to him, making her wet.

Without warning, the Lady licked her lips and sucked his length down her throat. Lord Tywin cried out in spite of himself, instantly letting go of her and gripping the sides of the ornate mirror in front of him. She placed her hands on his bare hips and pulled back, enjoying his uncertainty and she drew away almost far enough for him to slip out of her mouth and then slowly slid him back inside her completely.

"_Damnit_," he swore under his breath as her forehead bumped his lower abdomen.

She repeated the motions, adjusting a little as he began to thrust into her mouth. She slipped her hands from his hips to the warm sac between his legs, cradling and massaging him. His breathing became jagged, interspersed with sharp gasps and cries. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed the back of her hair and held her in place as he spent himself down her throat. She lowered her hands and held her breath as well as she could, waiting for him to let go of her. Slowly, he released her hair and took a small step back, catching his breath.

The Lady discreetly wiped her mouth and used the remains of her slip to wipe the remaining moisture from his groin. She pulled up his breeches as she stood up and laced them loosely back up for him. She smiled warmly up at him and gestured to the chairs by the fire. Lord Tywin turned without a word, walked unsteadily over to a chair and collapsed into it. The Lady drank a few mouthfuls of wine to rinse the taste from her mouth and then brought over a cup for each of them.

She set one down on the table next to the red faced lord and took the other back to her original place on the fur rug. The Lady laid down perpendicular to him so he could admire her tantalizing profile, her bare breasts hidden slightly by the rug and her arms.

"Will you stay a little longer this time?" she asked after a quiet moment.

"Perhaps. I have much to do," replied the lion, taking a drink of wine.

"Your work will be there tomorrow I'm sure. Just relax," she said gently, taking a sip of wine.

He regarded her for a moment in silence.

"You can talk to me about whatever is troubling you if you wish," she offered softly.

Lord Tywin snorted in amusement.

"I don't think I'll be discussing the secret workings of the realm with you, Lady," he replied, eyeing her over the rim of his cup.

"Why not? You have been told that I'm discreet and despite your preconceived notions, I'm not stupid," she retorted, taking a drink.

"Really?"

"Besides," continued the Lady as though he had not spoken, "what would I have to tell anyone when we have never met and I am currently with someone else?"

Lord Tywin's green eyes sharpened slightly.

"You have an alibi for when we are together?" asked Tywin curiously.

"Two. They alternate depending on the day of the week. One can never be too careful, in my opinion."

"You speak as if from experience."

The Lady smiled and said nothing. Instead, she curled her legs up under her and slowly stood up. She sauntered over to him and straddled his legs, sitting on his thighs.

He tensed and his hands went to her hips, though his eyes remained locked on hers instead of her chest. Unconsciously, his fingers found the scar on her hip and brushed over it gently.

"I've had many experiences. I wouldn't mind reliving some of them with you now unless you'd prefer I continue being clever," she teased leaning close to his face to speak, running her fingers through his hair.

"Go on, impress me then," goaded the lion, watching her.

She smiled wickedly and rolled her hips against him but he stopped her with a look.

"Verbally," he corrected.

The Lady inclined her head and slid back off his lap. She walked over to her wardrobe, pulled out a green silk robe and slipped it on.

"Did I say you could get dressed?" demanded Lord Tywin.

"I didn't ask," she replied lightly, lifting her hair out of the collar and tying the band at her waist. She met his imperious gaze with a challenge of her own as she came back over to the fire and picked up her wine glass. The Lady lounged against the side of the fire place for a moment and then said quietly, "I would hate to be one of your children."

At that, Lord Tywin Lannister frowned.

"Why?"

She heard the edge in his voice that most men shrank from but continued on.

"When you have the whole of my body to look at or touch, your eyes and fingers go to the scar on my hip. I have been told that I have many pleasing features and yet you focus on the flaw, the imperfection. What person could live up to such standards, let alone your children?" she finished quietly, taking a drink and hoping he wouldn't notice that her knuckles were white around the glass.

Lord Tywin set down the glass, his expression unreadable. He stood up to his full height and advanced on her. Her back was already up against the fire place; she had nowhere to go. She dropped the empty wine glass on the rug at her feet and lowered her hands, watching his approach apprehensively.

He drew up close to her and she tilted her head back to look up at him. His eyes were cold but not murderous. She hoped. Lord Tywin raised his hands and let them rest on either side of her neck before his fingers curled around her throat. He didn't squeeze or cause her pain, but his hands lingered; a veiled threat against her fragile windpipe. He didn't speak but his eyes bored into hers.

"Too clever?" she whispered, wanting to break the silence.

Tywin remained silent, eyeing her mouth pensively, considering her words. He met her eyes suddenly and said very quietly and clearly, "Don't ever talk about my family again."

"As you wish, my Lord Hand," she agreed softly.

He nodded once, satisfied by her response, and moved away from her. As he put on his tunic, he missed the shudder that ran through her as she touched her throat where his hands had been. Lord Tywin looped his belt and then returned to her.

"Wear white tomorrow," he ordered.

"Of course, if it will please you," the Lady replied courteously with a smile even though her hands trembled at her sides.

He nodded again dismissively and strode to the door.

"Good night my lord. Sleep well," she said gently as he pulled it open.

He turned to look at her for a moment before wishing her the same and striding back to his chambers.


	3. The Hand and the Lady Part 3

The Hand and The Lady Part 3

"How did you get this scar?" asked Lord Tywin after he caught his breath. He was lying on his side next to the Lady who was facing him, also trying to slow her breathing after his vigorous lovemaking. Lord Tywin's hand was clamped possessively over her hip, covering the mark in question.

"Is it bothering you?" she asked with a smile.

"A mistake?" pressed Tywin, ignoring her mirth.

The Lady sighed and touched a few of the scars on the old lion's chest.

"You remember my rule about dangerous clients?" she replied, glancing up at him from under her lashes.

"MmmHmm."

"That scar is the reason for the rule."

"That doesn't really answer my question," Lord Tywin pointed out.

"I keep forgetting that you're a politician and are as adept at misdirection and lying as I am," she retorted, leaning in to kiss the wiry patch of golden hair over his heart.

"Will you tell me how you got all of yours?" she asked before he could speak.

"They are all from battles, not very interesting," Lord Tywin grumbled shifting his hand to the small of her back and sliding her closer to him.

The Lady tensed slightly. She was starting to believe that he meant it when he said he had no interest in hurting her but still, she remembered the feel of his hands on her throat several visits ago and lifetime of caution could not be undone in a week. She slid her arm under his and let it rest against his back.

Lord Tywin sighed.

"They are all from battles except for this one," he corrected himself, removing his hand from her back and letting her see the gash across his forearm.

"Oh? And what is this from?" she asked, moving her hand from his back and clasping his wrist gently.

Tywin paused before he spoke.

"Jaime."

The Lady frowned in confusion.

"Your son?" she whispered, not understanding.

"He was seven and it was the first time I allowed him to handle live steel. I didn't think he would swing at me with it but he did. It was my arm or my stomach," said Lord Tywin, remembering his anger and his son's terror at what he had done.

"I'm sure he was sorry," she offered, gently running a finger tip along its length.

"He was, and afterwards, I was sorry for yelling at him. He didn't come near me for a week," recounted Tywin ruefully.

"But he learned that they were dangerous," reasoned the Lady.

Lord Tywin nodded against the bedding.

They lay in silence for a time, Lord Tywin still looking at her, waiting for an answer.

"You won't leave until I tell you about my scar will you?" she asked with a smile.

"You survived it and dismiss it in conversation. Whatever memories you have associated with it, you've made peace with as much as you can," read Lord Tywin.

"I have made peace with it although I'd prefer to leave it in the past," requested the Lady, shifting slightly.

"Tell me," said Lord Tywin.

"And what makes you think I'll tell you the truth?" she quipped, raising her eyebrow.

"Most people who lie to me don't do it for very long," said the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Hand of the King.

The Lady sighed and looked away from him.

"He was my first client. I should have been more careful about choosing but I hadn't eaten for two days. He took what he wanted and then pulled a dagger. My screams saved my life and I bought my first loaf of bread after tending to my wound," she recounted quietly.

Lord Tywin listened and was about to speak when she continued.

"He was my father. A drunken brute who finally decided that he didn't want my mother around anymore. I got this scar trying to save her. I failed," she finished in a whisper.

Now Lord Tywin was frowning.

"When I was young, a boy I liked pushed me and I fell hard on a jagged rock. He was beaten and this scar has grown with me."

"Stop," demanded Lord Tywin in consternation.

"I am doing what you wished, my lord. I have told you the truth," promised the Lady innocently.

"You think you're clever," Lord Tywin said, raising his own golden eyebrow.

The Lady smiled at him and leaned in so her chest brushed against his. She made as if to kiss him but stopped several inches short, enjoying the sound of his breath catching in his throat and his furtive glances at her mouth.

"I know I'm clever," she breathed, watching the candlelight glint off the golden flecks in his green eyes.

She slipped off the bed and poured a glass of wine which she brought back to the bed after taking a sip. The Lady handed him the glass and let him drink a mouthful before taking the glass back.

Without warning, she tipped the glass over his chest and let some spill on him.

The lion jerked in surprise and looked at her with a frown.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

He moved to wipe away some of the wine with his hand but she caught it and put it back on the bed.

"Distracting you," she smiled, leaning down over him. Slowly, she licked the wine from his chest.

He stopped protesting and lay back against the bedding but kept his eyes on her. She was learning to read his breathing and he was definitely enjoying her mouth traveling all over his chest though there was still the hint of a frown darkening his brow. When the Lady had cleaned him off, she sat back up and picked up the cup again.

"Your turn," she entreated huskily, as she arched her back and let some wine trickle down between her breasts and pool in her lap.

Her cheeks flushed and her heart started to race as she watched his expression change from enjoyment to hunger. In a smooth movement, that surprised her in its quickness, he pinned her on her back and then his mouth went everywhere. His tongue found the wine and plenty of other places that the wine hadn't been. She wondered hazily if he was actually going to make it to her mouth but he stopped at her neck, nuzzling the hollow of her throat. The Lady wasn't surprised when he pushed into her again but he had never taken her on her back before. She had always been facing away from him. Tywin groaned as she lifted her hips up to meet his thrusts, her fingernails raking down his back. The Lady opened her mouth in an 'O' of pleasure as he shifted again, grabbing the sheets past her head with one hand and tangling his other in her hair. His broad chest and throat filled her field of vision as he panted near her the top of her head.

Instead of gasping, she began to murmur his name at each thrust.

"Tywin…_Tywin_… TYWIN!" she cried out as she peaked for the first time in a long time with a client. She made an effort to make it seem like the others she had had for him but she needn't have been careful. The Lion was off in his own world, burrowing for comfort at her core. He let out a strangled shout into the bedding as she felt him seize. As if her own consummation wasn't surprise enough, when he finished, he rolled his torso off of her, so his weight didn't cause her any discomfort and rested his head against her chest, fingers still clinging to her hair. Lord Tywin lay on her, as his breathing slowed, listening to the fading thunder of her own heartbeat. The Lady curled an arm around his back and threaded the fingers of her other hand through his golden hair, murmuring softly to him.

She heard him murmur something back that sounded like a question although it was lost in her flesh.

"My Lord?" she asked softly, pausing in her fingers in his hair.

"Your name," he repeated, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at her.

She smiled indulgently.

"You already know it," she reminded him.

"You used mine without a title," said Lord Tywin.

"I thought you would like it," the Lady replied, smiling warmly up at him.

The Lion clenched his jaw. Of course he had liked it, that wasn't the point.

"I want to be able to say your name," he tried again.

Her smile turned a little wicked and without warning, she pushed against the center of his elbow, putting him off balance and rolling him onto his back. Her hair hung down like a curtain next to them and she looked down at him seriously.

"I want a great many things too; things I'll never have. My name is the only thing I've ever truly had to myself: My one possession. I give much when asked but even I have my limits, my lord. As do you," she said softly, watching him carefully for any signs of anger.

The Lord of Casterly Rock listened and showed nothing on his face.

"When you can have anything you want at the snap of your fingers, it might be healthy for you to realize there are some things that cannot be bought."

Then his eyes darkened though not with anger, with pain.

He moved her off of him and sat up, looking away from her.

"If I truly could have anything I wanted at the snap of my fingers, I wouldn't need you."

The Lady opened her mouth to say something but the gnawing ache in his voice made all the words she could think of seem meaningless.

He began to get dressed, not looking at her anymore. She slid off the bed and slipped on her robe. She held out his crimson tunic which he put on, again without looking at her. Only when she bent to help him on with his boots, did he look at her though she didn't see it. The Lady finished the laces and stood up, looking down at him. The Lion was hunched over, his hands resting on his knees. Without thinking, she bent down and gently kissed the top of his head, letting her hand rest against his scruffy cheek for a brief moment. Then she stood up and away from him, watching him unfold and rise to his full height before her. He met her eyes then and she held his gaze until he looked away and walked out without another word.


End file.
